Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3)

by Grider, J. P.

  But I want to do all those things. It's almost as if my brain won't let me. Like if I start talking, I make this whole thing real. If I start talking, I'm giving in and accepting this fate. I don't want to accept it. I don't want to be a one-legged human being who can't dance anymore. Dancing was everything to me. How can I possibly survive without it?

  "Rosie." My mom breaks my train of thought. "I contacted your friend Holly."

  "No," I want to say, but I don't.

  "It wasn't easy. She's not in the dorms this year, and the school wouldn't give me her new address, but...I went to that bar you mentioned. The one where you said she had gotten a job once. I took a chance, and fortunately, she's still working there."

  I don't look at my mother. I close my eyes instead. You did not tell Holly. Please say you didn't tell her.

  "She'd like to come see you."

  No, Mom. No. I'm not ready.

  "She's so sorry she hadn't made more of an effort to find you. She just thought you were busy with dan..." Mom drops her head. "I apologized for not reaching out to her sooner. It was hard for me..." Mom shakes her head, her eyes still cast on the floor.

  I know, Mom. I know.

  My mother sighs, and it's so loud I'm afraid the whole room heard her. "Rosie, let her come. Please," she begs, her voice wet with tears she's trying not to shed. "Maybe seeing her will help. Get you to talk again." My mother's hands are shaking. "It hurts to see you like this, baby."

  I cover my eyes with my hand to block my own tears. I hadn't shed one since that day I screamed in the hospital, but ever since the other day, they seem to come so easily.

  "I told her I'd ask you first, but...I'm kind of hoping she comes anyway. She seemed insistent on it." My mother nods, trying to keep this conversation up by herself. One-sided conversations are hard, I'm figuring. "I did tell her it was only fair to ask you, but you don't want her to come, do you?"

  No. I don't. I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her pity. Anybody's pity. Things will never be the same again. My breath catches at this thought.

  My mother notices. She moves in closer and puts her hand on my leg. My good leg. I notice my mother won't look at my other leg. She doesn't want to accept this as much as I don't. To my face, she says, "Rosie, I want you to come home. But you can't until you know how to use your pros...your new...Oh, Rosie, just please do what they say." She's crying now, she can't help it. "Please, baby, so you can come home. Please. I know you'll feel better when you're in familiar surroundings."

  I blink for my mother. My acknowledgment of her plea. Then I lean forward to hug her. She takes my body in hers so fiercely I think I'm going to fall out of my chair.

  "Please come back, baby," she whispers in my ear.

  I give her a whimper. Because, really, I do want to come back. I just wish I could come back as a whole person.

  When my mother pulls away, she wipes away her tears with a tissue and smiles. "Can we go into your room? I'd like to brush your hair."

  Because it probably looks straggly and unkempt, is what she's thinking. It's bad enough Lou has to wash me. I can't expect her to spend time keeping my waist-length hair neat.

  "I brought a pair of scissors too. Maybe I can trim it up, like old times?"

  Mom always trimmed my hair. It's not like it's hard to do. I have thick, straight, one-length hair. She liked to keep it tidy for me, because it was so thick, it would tangle easily. Anyway, I offer my mom a simple nod. It's the least I can do.

  I use my electronic controls to wheel myself to my room, so my mom doesn't have to push me. When we get to my room, she asks if I want to move to the regular chair. I shrug, not sure where I want to sit.

  "You can stay where you are if you want."

  My mother's gentle touch as she brushes my hair makes me sad. I'm not sure why, because even when I had two legs, I still loved when my mother would bring a brush to my hair. There's just something about your mother's touch. But now I feel sad. I think I'm always going to be sad.

  I close my eyes and try not to think. Instead, I pay attention to each brush stroke and try to bring myself back to my life before.

  But I can't.

  It was so easy three days ago to sink into my past and leave this place, but now...I can't. I'm too much here...in the present. I focus on the wall in front of me, because sometimes that would work, but today it doesn't. Dammit, I don't want to be here. I want to forget again. Just for a few moments.

  I sigh in resignation and let more tears fall.

  Before I realize it, my mother has brushed and trimmed my hair. When I turn my chair around and look at the floor, all I see is red. Snapping my head up, I silently ask my mom why she cut so much off.

  "It was all dead, honey. You haven't been conditioning it, or even hardly brushing it. It looks healthy now. Take a look."

  She wheels me to the mirror that hangs along the bathroom door. My hair now comes to just above my breasts. I guess that means it falls right about to my bra strap in the back. But it does look healthier.

  "I know I should have wet your hair first," my mother says, "but I think it looks nice. Don't you?"

  I bring my hands up to touch it, and for the first time, I nod. A real nod. Accompanied with a smile. I love you, Mom. So much.

  She kisses the top of my head, and starts braiding my hair. "Now, I know you don't really want to fuss with your hair while you're here, so if you just keep it in a braid, it won't get all knotty. Can you at least do that, Rosie?"

  I nod. Sure, Mom.

  Mom leaves, and I'm back in therapy with Nina, who says I look a little brighter since Mom came to visit. Yeah, well, I love my mom.

  "If you're willing to try today, Rose, I have your temporary prosthetic." She looks at me, hopeful, and begs me with her eyes to be cooperative.

  I'm the one who’s been holding this whole process up. My temporary prosthetic was ready when I first got here, but the new uncooperative, impolite me refused to let Nina put it on. Allowing them to put this fake leg on me cements the truth. Makes it real. I'm so not ready for real. But I do want to get back home. And to begin the journey back home, I guess I have to take the first step. I shake my head at the pun and give Nina a distinct nod. Why not?

  "You're shaking your head, you’re nodding, which is it, girl?"

  I nod.

  "Good. Now let's get you on your feet."

  My half-leg had already been prepared with a rigid dressing, but Nina slides on a couple of socks before she attaches this thing to me.

  "Okay, we won't be needing this pillow underneath your hip," she says, as she removes the pillow that's been lodged under my hip to keep the lower part of my half-leg from hanging. "Well, we're ready to attach the prep to your stump."

  I flinch. I cannot stand that word. I will not use it.

  Nina knows I've tensed up. "I'm sorry. That's not the best word to use, is it?"

  I don't respond, but Nina gives my thigh a rub.

  "Let's get you upright." My metal leg is attached, and she helps to pull me out of my chair.

  I'm standing on this plastic-looking foot that is attached to what looks like a metal paper towel tube. It's hideous, and I'm about to break down again. My breathing becomes forced, and I feel my heart pounding. I can't do this. I can't do this. How can you expect me to live like this for the rest of my life?

  "Rose," Nina says calmly, holding on to my shoulders. "You got this. Don't break down on me again. Come on, this is temporary. Your real leg, it's gonna be prettier, I promise."

  Prettier? Really? No.

  "Please, honey," she begs again.

  I lift my hands to grab onto her arms, and I squeeze. Please don't let me fall.

  10

  BEN

  "Okay, kid, looks like you don't need that chair anymore."

  "Thank heavens."

  "But you do need to rest your leg quite a bit during the day," Craig continues. "I wanna see you sitting on that couch in there with your leg up. But I'm gonn
a keep your brace unlocked from now on. You're recovering nicely."

  "Thanks."

  "How's that pain, though?"

  "It comes and goes."

  "Still a shooting pain?"

  I nod. "Yup."

  "Hmmm." He pauses, looking worried.

  "Craig?"

  "We'll just keep an eye on it. I want you to schedule an MRI, though. Just to be safe."

  "Okay, sure."

  Craig continues to push me to my limited limits, and I have to laugh at myself. I'm on a treadmill, walking two miles per hour. If my teammates saw me now, they'd tear me up. "Will I ever be able to run again?" I ask Craig, half joking.

  "Of course." He laughs. "One step at a time, Ben. We can't speed up the process. We want you like new again, and that's gonna take a little time."

  "I guess." I continue on the treadmill another twenty minutes before Craig pats me on the back and tells me it's time for stretching. About ten different stretches later, I'm told to take a walk around the building and then get lunch.

  I'm not sure how I feel about walking around the building. Especially since Johnny can't. Don't get me wrong, I like standing on my own two feet, but I almost feel as if just by being able to walk around, I'd be rubbing it in to my friend who may never be able to walk again. When I met him, we were on level playing ground, so to speak. I feel guilty that I no longer need my chair.

  At my usual lunch time, since I no longer need anyone to help me retrieve my lunch, I go to the cafeteria and get my food to go. As uncomfortable as I am to walk in front of Johnny, I enjoy sitting with him and don't want to give that up. He's one of the coolest guys I know, and I'm grateful to have met him. So I bring my lunch to the rec room and hope that he's just as cool with me being on my two feet permanently.

  When I walk into the rec room holding my lunch, the first one to look my way is Johnny. He's already sitting with Marti. "Whoa, Ben. Look at you," he exclaims loudly. "Is that for good or just a little reprieve?" he asks when I'm at the table.

  Setting my tray down on the table, I pull out my chair and sit across from him. "It's for good."

  "Awesome." And he genuinely looks happy for me.

  "Hi, Marti."

  "Hi, Ben."

  "Dude, you wanna watch a movie tonight?" I ask Johnny. "Lou was telling me we're not confined to our rooms at night." Usually I spend the evenings reading Sports Illustrated or some baseball book, but I feel like doing something different tonight.

  "That'd be cool. I'm usually so beat, I'm sleeping by the time you get done with your last session, but I'll try to stay up tonight."

  "No, don't worry about it. Was just an idea."

  "I want to. I'll tell Jack not to put me to bed tonight."

  "Cool." I eat my lunch while Marti feeds Johnny his, and in between bites we make small talk.

  About ten minutes in, Johnny's head turns toward the door and his eyes grow twice their size. I turn around, since my back is toward it, and at the door, next to her therapist, who's holding a lunch tray, Rose walks in, with only a cane to assist her.

  "Oh my God, she's beautiful," Johnny says, echoing my thoughts.

  "Shit, yeah," I say, utterly blown away. It's amazing, really, but on two feet, standing at probably five foot five, with her hair pulled back in a loose braid, Rose looks completely different. As if her soul decided to come alive. There's still no smile on her lightly freckled face, but there's a soft peach glow to her cheeks and energy in her eyes. Before I realize what I'm doing, I wave two fingers backwards in silent invitation to join us. Her lip quirks, revealing a cute dimple on her right cheek. She ducks her head as she walks, and when her therapist walks over and places the tray to my right, Rose doesn't follow. Instead, she reaches for the chair to my left. It doesn't slip by me that her scar is on her left side. Though it doesn't take away from her beauty at all, I realize she's self-conscious about it. And she sits to my right, as opposed to Johnny's. This ignites a vain thought. Could this sweet redhead be interested in me?

  Shit.

  That'd be so damn cool.

  When her therapist walks around to place the tray in front of Rose, I notice the tag on her scrubs says Nina. Nina the therapist. At least I know what her name is now. Nina tells Rose to feel free to walk around the room after lunch and she'll be back for her in an hour.

  "Damn, girl, you look good on two legs," Johnny tells her in a non-flirtatious way.

  I, on the other hand, attempt to flirt by leaning into her ear and whispering, "I think you're beautiful no matter what."

  Her eyes get as big as Johnny's did a minute ago, and then her face turns a brighter peach and she looks down at her lap. I mentally kick myself, because maybe that was being too forward. With Rose, I need to take it slow. I know this. She's been through a traumatic event. I need to rein it in a bit, but damn, I couldn't help myself. She's beyond beautiful.

  Rose's eyes dart around the table, but she hardly raises her head, and she never touches her food.

  "Girl, I'm gonna sic Marti on you if you don't start eating."

  Marti just laughs but doesn't respond to Johnny's comment.

  Rose tries to ignore him, but her hands are fumbling over each other on her lap, and I'm pretty sure she's embarrassed right now.

  "Hey, Rose," I say to distract her, "Johnny and I are watching a movie in here tonight." She turns her head to look at me. "You're welcome to join us...It gets boring sitting in our room night after night," I say as an afterthought.

  She looks me in the eyes, and I may be wrong, but I think she wants to say yes.

  To get her to seal the deal, I say, "There'll be chocolate pudding."

  Her lips tuck in, but a small smile escapes. I made her smile, and if I'm not mistaken, the little rise of her chest tells me she's stifling a chuckle too.

  "How 'bout seven?" I ask Johnny. "I have a thirty-minute session with Katrina at six thirty. Is that good for you?"

  "Sure. They usually put me in my bed about six, because I work out like Schwarzenegger and I'm beat by then, but tonight, for you guys, I'll stay up."

  "Good for you too, Rose?"

  She nods. Just twice, but she nods. Yes.

  Obviously Rose remains quiet while Johnny and I talk, but we do include her in the conversation. Once in a while I'll get a nod or a barely-there smile, but she does respond, and this puts a smile on my face so huge that it's pretty hard to keep it hidden.

  "What's so funny?" Johnny asks.

  "Nothing. Just...a joke I remember."

  "Care to share?"

  "Not really."

  He shrugs and drops it.

  Throughout lunch, I try really hard not to let on that I'm watching Rose, but because she's become somewhat of an interest to me, I can't help myself. I notice, though, that today...she eats. It's not a lot, and she even tries to hide that she's eating, but it's more than I've seen her eat on other days. Well, anything's more than nothing.

  After Johnny's nurse wheels him away, and we've confirmed our plans for tonight, I ask Rose to take a walk with me around the room.

  "Come on." I nudge her after she doesn't respond. "I heard Nina telling you you should. Besides, the room emptied out. It's practically just the two of us in here."

  She looks down at her legs for such a long time that I think she's ignoring me, but then her hands cup the edge of the table and she pushes her chair away. My impulse is to take her by the arm, but I don't want her to think I think she needs my help.

  Her small pale hand grips her cane and she steps to my side. I take the first step, and we walk together around the edges of the large room. I'm guessing the room is set up for walking, since the tables are set in the center of the room and the lounge area is off to the far corner, leaving adequate space for wheelchairs and recovering walkers to roam about the room. A month ago, I think I’d have laughed if someone asked me to walk around a room for recreation. I'm just saying, the room may be large, but it's no baseball field. None of that matters at the moment, though, be
cause I'm walking with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the honor of walking with. So, yeah, I'm good.

  11

  ROSE

  This is so awkward.

  And embarrassing.

  I don't even know what to think right now. My yoga pants are covering this fake leg, but it's not like Ben doesn't know. Besides, even if he didn't know, all he'd have to do is look down at the big plastic foot that sticks out from the bottom of my pants.

  I'm trying. Really. There's nothing I want more than to be home with my mother, but...

  Well, that's a lie.

  There is one more thing I want more than to be home, and that's for this stupid accident to never have taken place so that I could still dance. But that dream was wrenched away from me, and that makes me sad. Yet I don't want to stay here forever, so I need to find it in myself to willingly cooperate and show some kind of semblance to my old self.

  "So, I know you don't talk much," Ben says slowly, his hands stuck in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "so you can just nod or shake your head...if you're comfortable with that, of course."

  He pauses in his speech and his step. I force myself to look up at him but only for an instant. Then he continues to walk as he asks, "Do you like funny movies?"

  I nod.

  "Do you like horror movies?"

  I shrug, because they're not bad, but I don't necessarily love them.

  He seems to understand my shrug, since the next thing he says is, "Soooo, not reeeeaaaally a fan, but you'll watch it...if forced."

  The way he draws out some of the words, I can't help but smile.

  "Okay. What about action films...like...Need for Speed or Fast and Furious?"

  I scrunch up my face and shake my head.

  "What about...Hunger Games, Twilight, that kind of thing?"

  I nod.

  "Okay, okay, what about love stories? Like Nicholas Sparks and..."

  I nod before he's even finished asking the question.

  "Noooo." He throws his head back as we walk. "Okay, okay, I had a feeling, but...just wanted to be sure. I guess I'll see what DVDs we have to choose from, and I'll pick a love story or something funny.